Federal Discipline (8 page)

“Of course,” Jamie said, suddenly annoyed. “I can handle it. Is it messy?”

“I haven't heard,” Jack said. “But it's personal, being in your place. I would have gone alone, but frankly, I'm not certain you're safe...”

Jamie bit her lip and counted to ten. It was so tempting to bite his head off, but there was little point to that. He'd probably just pull the car over and do something unspeakable to her.

“...
it's just as well I took you home with me last night,” Jack continued.

He was perhaps right, but Jamie didn't want to hear that. She continued biting her lip as they drove the familiar roads to her place.

“It was smart, actually,” Jack said, seeming not to notice her sudden silence. “We'd taken the tape from the security camera last night, remember?  So anything our killer did after that point isn't on tape. At least not on the building tapes. It's almost as if he planned it that way.”

The perpetrator was beginning to coalesce into a shadowy entity. Someone who killed for the same reason other people used post-it notes: to send a message.

Drawing up to her building, Jamie screwed up her courage. She walked up the stairs, reminding herself to be calm and professional. She would not break down. She would not have hysterics. She would not be surprised or annoyed by all the authorities stamping around her place.

The door to her apartment had yellow crime scene tape across it. She ducked under the tape and stepped inside. The place was familiar and yet, not. The victim immediately took center stage. Laid out on Jamie's couch, she looked almost peaceful, save for the fact that she was very much dead. To Jamie's consternation, the woman was young, slim and blonde. Not quite a dead ringer for herself, but a fairly close approximation.

“Someone's playing with us,” Jamie whispered under her breath. “This sick... this sick bastard is toying with us. With me.”

“It looks that way,” Jack said. “It's common for serial killers to create a dialog with investigators, to taunt them. It's a game to them.”

“What was the cause of death?”

Unlike Mrs
. Brampton, who had been stabbed, and Mr. Brampton who had been in the grip of some psychotic break and the victim before that, who appeared to have been killed in numerous ways, this victim did not have so much as a bruise upon her pale skin. Dressed in a white gown, she looked as though she was sleeping on the couch. The couch Jamie had once rather liked. The couch she was going to have to burn.

“Cause of death not determined as yet,” Jack said. “There's very little in the way of an obvious cause, so perhaps poison or an overdose of another kind. I don't suppose you know this woman?”

“No,” Jamie confirmed. “I don't know any shoe-less waifs in the habit of turning up dead on my sofa.”

She surprised herself with the callousness of her own reply. It didn't at all reflect how she felt on the inside, sad for the young woman whose life had inexplicably terminated inside her apartment - and a little scared as to what that meant for her own life.

“This changes things,” Jack said. “This is our second female victim, but the first victim who was not subjected to the sort of violence the other victims were. That tells us something.”

“What does it tell us?”

“It tells us that we're dealing with someone not quite the right side of sane. Someone who treats some women with more care than men, perhaps feels less rage toward them - yet has no qualms about killing them to make a point.”

“And that's what this is, a point?”

“This?” Jack said grimly. “This is the proverbial horse head in the bed. I think our killer might have developed a certain fascination with you, agent.”

Every hair on the back of Jamie's neck stood erect and a chill seemed to pass through the room. She felt the presence of something malign
ant. Something nasty, waiting for her in the unseen wings of the future.

Any day that started with a dead body in her lounge was probably not going to be a good day, Jamie figured. It did not improve when the tape recovered from the security camera turned out to be less than useless. It was six hours of static.
Nothing more and nothing less. A frustrating discovery for Jamie and Jack alike. It seemed as though every lead they got terminated in a dead end.

“I think I owe you an apology,” she said to Jack. “And a thank you.”

They were standing in Jack's office, door shut, blinds drawn so the room seemed to be in a kind of timeless twilight. She'd asked to go back to work, but now that she was at work, concentrating on the tasks at hand was... difficult, to put it mildly.

“Hey,” Jack said, reaching out and drawing her into a hug that made her feel small and safe and vaguely unprofessional. “It's okay to be upset.”

“Is it?” Jamie asked the question to the hard line of his chest. “You didn't want a female partner who was freaking out all the time.”

“I didn't want someone who couldn't handle what we do. Nobody is going to be al
l right with having their personal space invaded by dead people.” His palm traced a soothing line up and down her back. “I'm going to take care of you, Jamie,” he promised softly. “No harm is going to come to you.”

It was a promise he couldn't really make, but she believed him. Standing there, her body pressed against his, she felt as if she were in the safest place in the world.

He lowered his head, perhaps to press a kiss to the top of hers, but at the last moment she lifted her face and their mouths met. In a moment of madness, lips parted, tongues were engaged and before either of them truly knew what was happening, they were kissing with a mad, needful urgency that surpassed all other considerations.

Jack's hands left her back and roamed her body, one cupping her bottom, the other sliding up to caress her breast with a soft motion that stoked her desire all the more. She rode her hips forward against the thigh he had so obligingly pressed out, grinding
herself against his leg with a wanton need. The button of her clit was fully engaged with the hard ridge of his muscle, so when he started to play his thumb across the ridge of her nipple and pull her bottom hard against him all whilst plundering her mouth in the most passionate kiss she had ever experienced – Jamie found herself rapidly approaching a very unprofessional peak.

She didn't care; c
ouldn't have stopped herself if she did. She rubbed herself against him like an animal in heat, chasing that climax that was building between her thighs. Jack knew precisely what she was doing, and he urged her on, pressing his fingers underneath her skirt. When his hand made contact with her pantyhose and her panties, and the pads of his agile digits began massaging the damp entrance of her pussy, she was forced to stuff her hand into her mouth to stop herself from crying out. He just felt so damn good, so masterful. His fingertips worked her pussy with a downright expert touch, pressing slick material against her tender lips, pulling it tighter against her clit until finally she came in his arms, panting her orgasm into his mouth as it shot through every part of her nervous system, leaving her both ecstatic and weak in his embrace.

“Feel better?” He drawled the question down at her with a rakish smile that made her blush.

“Yes, actually.” She did feel better. She felt a whole lot better. The concerns of the world, even the nasty ones involving random bodies, seemed much less intense now. “Thank you,” she said as she reluctantly stepped away from him and straightened her skirt.

“So polite,” he smiled charmingly.

Jamie made her mind up then and there. She was going to make love to Jack Harley. She was going to give herself to him as she had to no other. The long, thick ridge in his pants was testament to the fact that she would enjoy it immensely.

“Would you...
er... can I,” there was nothing charming or suave about the way she sort of gestured toward his crotch. “Relieve you?”

“Oh my,” he chuckled, taking her by the hand and leading her back towards his desk. “You want to relieve me?”

She nodded silently, suddenly feeling a little shy and nervous. He seemed to understand. He leaned back against his desk and pulled her between his legs. Wrapping his arms around her once again, he lowered his head to her ear and drawled a quiet question. “Would you like to relieve me with that cute mouth, or that wet pussy?”

Jamie's blush spread from her face to almost her
entire body. “Umm.” She couldn't quite manage an answer. All of a sudden she felt completely inept. He was the master, she was the eager, but inexperienced servant. She wasn't actually a virgin, but it had been several years since her last boyfriend and she had sort of forgotten what sex felt like. Sort of.  Somehow she doubted sex with Jack would be like sex with any other man anyway.

“You want me to bend you over this desk and press my cock inside that tight pussy of yours? Or do you want to get underneath the desk and wrap your mouth around me?” He was speaking crudely, but somehow the brogue and the soft caress of his hands made the questions almost romantic.

She was gathering the nerve to answer when a knock at the door made them fly apart.

“Come in,” Jack called out as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn't almost been caught in a most inappropriate embrace.

“Test results for you, sir.” It was a rookie, clutching a manila folder. He handed it to Jack, then scurried off without another word.

“Ah,” Jack said. “Mr
. Brampton's extended toxicology results. Perhaps these will tell us what was going on with him.”

Putting carnal matters to the side, he shook out the results, sat behind his desk and perused them with a slight frown. “Hm.”

“Hmm?” Jamie edged around the desk so she could look at them too.

“He was clean, according to this. No meth, no coke, no weed, not even alcohol. No other known poisons either, no lead, no mercury...”

“Well he was clearly on
something
,” Jamie said. “He was out of his mind. He murdered someone. In cold blood. Like an animal.”

“Perhaps a mental break,” Jack said. “Or perhaps something else.”

“Like a daemon?” Jamie guffawed. “Don't be ridiculous.”

“I didn't say it was a daemon,” Jack replied. “And watch your tone, Missy.”

Smirking, Jamie shook her head and took the opportunity not only to mock Jack, but her own privately held fears. “You want some cleansing crystals? Maybe we can perform an exorcism?” She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I know, we'll solve this case with a séance.”

Jack stood up, hands on his hips as he glowered down at her. “It's been far too long since I spanked you.”

Caught up in her amusement, Jamie didn't pay nearly as much attention to the warning as she probably should have.

“You
wanna hold hands and chant? Maybe we can summon the daemon and question him directly... hey!”

Jack reached down, wrapped his hand about her slim wrist and pulled her up against his body. The hard reminder of his physical presence killed the laughter on her lips as she stared up at him, waiting to see what he was going to do next.

“You need to watch yourself, Missy,” he growled down at her. “This isn't a time for flippancy.”

“Is that a crucifix in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?” Jamie quipped shamelessly. There really was a hard protuberance in the region of her lower belly, and she doubted it was Jack's gun.

He let her go and scowled down at her. “Minx.”

“I'm not the one going about the place manhandling people,” Jamie said blithely. She felt she had the upper hand, and
she was very much enjoying it.

“It's not manhandling, Miss Black. It's discipline. You're in dire need of it. But right now, we've got work to do. Obviously Lee Brampton wasn't the only person going around killing people. His wife was assaulted after he died, and the second female victim was also dispatched after his death.”

“We need witnesses,” Jamie said. “We've got none. All we have is a bunch of dead people. And they're not talking.”

“You're right,” Jack agreed. “There's a lot of dead people, and not a whole lot of chatter. It's time we started pushing. Here's what I want you to do. I want you to compile a list of everyone known to the
Bramptons and the previous victims. I want those lists cross-referenced to see if there are any overlapping areas. We need to generate some of our own leads, and we need to do it now.”

“So... no servicing?” Jamie pouted slightly. The moment was gone and she knew it, but her loins had not gotten the message. She was going to need to change her panties she was so wet.

“Later,” he winked. “When we've earned it.”

*****

That job turned out to be much more tedious than it sounded. It was data entry, basically. Jack insisted that no area of the victims' lives was too small to omit, so Jamie found herself listing not only address books, but professional contacts too, workmates, ex workmates, lawyers, post men, pharmacists, travel agents. The lists went on and on and on. It took most of the day to compile even a semi-complete list, by which time Jamie was thoroughly sick of staring at a computer screen.

“We'll keep working late,”
Jack announced to her dismay. “I want to get this done tonight. Tomorrow we can go ahead and start interviewing anyone who shows up on more than one list.”

“There has to be a better way,” Jamie groaned.

“Forensics haven't come up with anything, Black. That means we need to handle this case another way. The old fashioned way.”

“Count on you to like the old fashioned way of doing things,” she muttered.

“I like the old fashioned way of spanking your bottom until you stop complaining,” he replied. “Sorry this job can't be all bullets and bodies.”

“Remember when you thought I couldn't handle the bullets and the bodies?”

He chuckled. “I do. I never suspected it was the paperwork you couldn't handle.”

“It's just so tedious, and time consuming. Whilst I'm sitting here like some kind of mad wedding planner putting together the world's worst guest list, there are probably more people dying.”

“There are always people dying,” Jack said. “We do our best. That's all we can do.”

“Our best should be better,” Jamie grumbled, going back to her list making.

“Found any links yet?” Jack turned the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“Well, they all lived in the same city, so some of them shopped at the same supermarkets, and one or two appear to have checked books out of the same library, but social circle wise, not a huge connection. The victims are from all walks of life, all social strata. It doesn't make sense.”

“It makes sense,” Jack said. “We're just not seeing it from the right angle yet. There will be a connection.”

Jamie made a frustrated groan and let her forehead come to an abrupt rest on the desk. “So. Tedious.”

“Okay, agent,” Jack said. “You've been at this a while. We both need to clear our heads. Let’s go out, grab some dinner, and see if we can come up with something afterward.”

*****

Though he couldn't really show it, Jack found Jamie's frustration somewhat endearing. It was nice to have a rookie who was that eager to get the job done. And it was understandable that she didn't like making lists. It was sort of a last ditch attempt to try to generate some investigative leads. In a case where all parties involved were deceased, it was easy to get stalled.

Jamie eagerly agreed to dinner, in fact, she chose the place they ended up at. It was a steak house
, which served lagers by the pint and wine by the bottle. A cozy little table in the corner was a nice spot to eat and talk, and they did both.

“So, are you happy now you're working in the field?” Jack made casual conversation.

“Yes,” Jamie smiled. “Definitely.”

Shaking his head, Jack chuckled into his beer. “Most rookies would be terrified.”

“I guess I'm not most rookies.”

“No,” Jack said. “You're certainly not. You're not afraid about what happened at your apartment?”

“Why would I be afraid?” A slight scowl appeared between Jamie's fine brows. “I was shocked at first, yeah. Someone came into my house. Smudged my mirror. Left a body behind for good measure. But I'm not going to be afraid because someone wants me to be. That poor woman, she wasn't me. I'm not some street person this guy can lure into a car and kill. I'm a federal agent. I come fully armed. If he wants to use my couch as dead body storage, I have a problem with that, but I'm not scared of some twisted little psycho. Don't worry about that.”

Her lip was curled disdainfully, her tone laced with disgust. Jack realized that she truly wasn't afraid for herself. If anything, the person or persons responsible for breaking into her apartment had only succeeded in annoying her.

“I liked that couch,” Jamie muttered, taking a sip of wine. “I don't suppose insurance will cover a replacement either. Dammit.”

Some might have thought her cold for being more concerned about her couch than the woman, but Jack unders
tood. You had to stay practical; you couldn't give into emotion and hysterics. With every passing hour he spent with Jamie, his admiration for her grew – as did his concern. She was beautiful, passionate, intelligent and brave. But she wasn't bulletproof, and she was almost certainly in the cross-hairs of a killer.